


On The Rooftops

by ElectricPool



Series: Musical Skeleton Theory [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Prepare yourself for a feels trip, jazzy, music inspired fic, sans is embarrassed about his musical talent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:29:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricPool/pseuds/ElectricPool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans often finds himself singing from the roof of his apartment building. He never expected to have a partner, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Rooftops

**Author's Note:**

> Suggested listening: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=MBXVNADMJAU
> 
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mQR0bXO_yI8

The rooftop always called to him when he was tired. Something about the open sky, the patchwork of stars, the city lights twinkling, made him want to take a deep breath and reconsider the mess that boiled within him.

Ever since they'd gotten out of the Underground, Sans had been jumpy; after all, when you've seen this city be razed by someone you thought you could call friend time and time again, you’d be pretty wary. This was the longest he had been up here without Frisk hitting the reset button on his happiness (and everyone else’s, too.) Two years and some change of waking up, soul pounding, ribs flaring in pain at a scar he could have sworn was there not a moment ago was not how Sans wanted to spend the rest of his life.

But, the rooftop helped, in its own weird way. The top of the apartment building where he and Papyrus had taken residence had fairly decent acoustics and a great view of the complex’s courtyard. Set up a little lawn chair, grab a drink, and it was a great place to watch the moon rise.

Sometimes, when the moment struck him, he’d take a quick, hurried glance around, close his eyes, and settle back into the chair. After a few deep breaths, he’d start humming a tune. If he felt particularly stressed, he’d sing: jazz, bluegrass, pop, usually whatever Papyrus had been listening to, or whatever came out of the jukebox at Grillby’s. Human music gave him shivers, with the amount of emotion they could put into it. It was obvious whenever one of them truly cared about their craft, and Sans secretly admired those who really felt what they were singing or playing.

Tonight was the kind of night where Sans needed more than a visit to Grillby’s and a stiff drink to take the edge off his anxiety. He’d woken up that afternoon, screaming, with his eye flaring. Fortunately, he couldn't remember what he’d dreamt about, nor had he disturbed anyone else in the building. (Papyrus had been off helping demonstrate proper sword fighting technique to Undyne’s gym class, so he’d been out of the apartment since before Sans had stumbled in.) Still, he'd been so on edge that that evening, Papyrus offered to go to his favorite bar with him, and buy the first round, too.

“i thought you hated new grillby’s,” Sans said and mimicked raising an eyebrow.

“You seem quite a bit more stressed than usual, brother,” Papyrus said quietly, twirling his spaghetti, “and while I am not the fondest of that establishment, I know you quite enjoy conversing with the owner and the other monsters there.”

“i thought you hated drinking, too.”

“I-” Papyrus sighed. He stopped twirling his spaghetti and set down the fork. “I worry about you, Sans. I was hoping partaking in one of your preferred pastimes would help cheer you up, and maybe help me understand why you're sad.”

Sans blinked a few times, then did his best to laugh. “don't worry, paps, i just had a rough dream after i got home from my shift. i’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure, brother?” Papyrus asked.

“yeah bro. go over to frisk’s to see mettaton’s new show tonight like you planned. i’ll hold down the fort.” Sans got up from the counter and put away his and Papyrus’s uneaten spaghetti.

“THAT’S RIGHT! I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT HIS NEW SHOW! IT'S SUPPOSED TO START SOON!” Papyrus perked back up at the mention of both Frisk and Mettaton. He shot out of the kitchen and hurried to the door. “IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, CALL ME, OKAY?” he added, before stepping out of their apartment.

“will do, bro. have a good time.”

And with that, Papyrus had left for the night, leaving Sans where he was now.

  


Alone.

  


At night.

  


Sober.

  


On a rooftop.

  


With no one out that he could see.

Sans sighed and pulled his knees in close. The sun had set about an hour ago, and his soul had started pounding harder and harder and _harder_ -

Deep breaths. In, out, in, out. Remember what Alphys told you. There's no use in worrying about something you can't control.

He wished he could call her up and talk to her for a bit, but he knew for a fact that Undyne had a special date night planned, and he wanted them to enjoy the time they had alone together. Having a nervous meltdown in the middle of their make out session would be a huge mood killer, and he was sure he’d stressed Alphys out more than enough with his episodes by this point.

No, there was nothing he could do but ride out the storm, on his rickety lawn chair.

  


_“Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper I love you_

_Birds singing in the sycamore tree_

_Dream a little dream of me.”_

  


A voice other than his rang out clear and melancholy across the courtyard. It was definitely a feminine voice, but Sans didn't recognize it. Whoever it was had both a great taste in music, and a great voice.

_“Say nighty night and kiss me_   
_Just hold me tight and tell me you miss me_   
_While I'm alone and blue as can be”_

The voice paused and wavered a bit before finishing the line.

_“Oh, dream a little dream of me…”_

Then, the owner of the voice took a heavy sigh, and stopped singing.

Sans was taken aback by how emotional the singer was. His bones felt heavy with the weight of the feeling, the SOUL the singer had put into their song. It made his heart lift, made him want to go down there and pull the person into a hug.

But, he was in no shape to do much of anything like that. So, he did the next best thing.

“ _Stars fading, but I linger on dear_ ,”  he began, singing in a slow swing.

_“Just craving your kiss._

_I'm longing to linger til dawn dear_

_Just saying this.”_

He heard a small gasp come from the courtyard, and then, the unthinkable.

_“Sweet dreams til sunbeams find you_

_Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_

_But in your dreams whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me.”_

The voice had chimed in for the second verse. They had sung together, two strangers in the night, to the stars, without ever seeing the face of their duet partner.

It felt like something out of a bad romance novel, really. Sans shook his head. No time for romantic notions, though he did wish he could congratulate his singing partner on their lovely voice. However, the courtyard was, once again, deserted.

Sans settled back into his chair. “yeah, maybe another day…” he murmured, soul regulating to a calmer beat. Music made him feel better, though if anyone ever asked him to sing they’d get an earful of puns about how awful he was at singing.

* * *

  


The next several nights were hell on Sans’s fragile heart. Night after night, he would clamor up to the rooftop and sing note after note after note in an attempt to sing with the person he’d sang with before. And, night after night, the anticipation would crash into a wave of let-downs and sadness. This didn't stop Sans, though. He sang all manner of things, though he returned to jazz more often than not.

About a year after the fateful night, Sans decided that maybe it was time to give up.

“alright, folks,” he laughed mirthlessly. “this’ll be it. last call for requests.”

  


But no one answered.

  


“you lazybones are gonna leave it to me, huh? that's okay. i had a good one in mind.”

He couldn’t bring himself to try to solo on that duet. No, there was no way. But, there was another song that Sans had found himself singing over the past year more than any other song; an ode to that lovely voice whose presence had driven him out of his mind.

_“Fly me to the moon_

_And let me play among the stars_

_Let me see what spring is like on_

_Jupiter and Mars_

_Oh, in other words_

_Hold my hand_

_In other words_

_Baby kiss me_

_Fill my heart with song_

_So I can sing forever more_

_You are all I long for_

_All I worship and adore_

_Oh, in other words_

_Please be true_

_In other words_

_I love you”_

  
With the last note, Sans heaved a sigh. “show’s over folks. have a great life. don't forget to tip your waitress.” The joke fell flat. Sans was too tired of everything to really put any effort into it. He gave one last longing look into the courtyard, folded up his chair, and went back inside. There was nothing left up there for him anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the feels trip! Don't worry too much about our poor skeleton; things get better for him soon. :)  
> Bonus points if you catch the other Frank Sinatra song reference in there.


End file.
